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BOOK GIVES INSIGHT ON REAL KEVORKIAN
The Capital Times (Madison, Wisconsin)
July 14, 2006 Friday
ALL EDITION
By Mary Bergin The Capital Times
The chapter is titled "Legacy," and it begins this way: "Jack Kevorkian
is used to fighting losing battles. The one he's fighting now may be
his last."
How sad and ironic that he seems to be struggling alone.
The 78-year-old physician, long known as "Doctor Death" because of his
willingness to help dozens of terminally ill people end their lives,
is slowly fading from life and public sight. He is in a Michigan
prison and has multiple ailments, including hepatitis C, contracted
decades ago while being his own guinea pig during research.
To hear friend Neal Nicol tell it, there also is a disintegration
of spirit because of inadequate reading materials, no access to the
Internet and no musical outlet (Kevorkian is a longtime piano and
flute player).
"They pretty much shot him right down, and it appears to be working,"
says Nicol in a phone interview. He describes Kevorkian, whom he last
saw in May, as "pretty frail."
Nicol and Harry Wylie, another longtime Kevorkian friend, have written
"Between the Dying and the Dead: Dr. Jack Kevorkian's Life and the
Battle to Legalize Euthanasia."
It is Kevorkian's only authorized biography, one that attempts "to
correct the incomplete portrait ... known by most Americans." Maybe
that sounds like the makings of a whitewash job, but the book is
about the doctor's flaws and missteps as well as his lesser-known
charms and tender side of character.
This son of Armenian refugees (who escaped genocide) wrote music
and limericks, made a cheap film about Handel's "Messiah," learned
to speak seven languages, produced a jazz CD ("A Very Still Life")
that earned a Grammy nomination in 1997.
It has been hard for him to be humble, and hard for him to lie. He
has never understood how a legislator could favor capital punishment
but be against euthanasia.
Many more people have asked Kevorkian for help to die than the
estimated 130 whom he has assisted.
"He is outspoken, brash, egotistical and intensely committed to the
causes in which he believes," the book states. "He is also a shy,
eccentric man who lived a monastic, ethical life, buying his clothes
from the Salvation Army and subsisting on the plainest of food,
particularly white bread."
The writing style is engaging, the subject matter is fascinating, and
there is no soft pedaling of details. These include the intricacies
of cadaver blood transfusion research, and exactly how ALS patient
Thomas Youk's life ended in 1998 (the case that led to Kevorkian's
present incarceration).
Kevorkian is painted as a gifted child who taunted teachers out of
boredom, yet not smart enough to know when/why/how his unconventional
ideas would backfire.
Had he been more savvy about how to introduce sensitive topics,
or latched onto others who were, perhaps the doctor would have been
granted the Nobel Prize that he once imagined for himself.
"We all have regrets," Nicol says, "and I think his biggest was
thinking that he could force the establishment into allowing terminal
patients to pass, pain free, at home with their loved ones."
Living wills and palliative care exist today because of Kevorkian, the
authors contend. His actions and philosophy have sparked right-to-die
and patient rights dialogue.
Nicol's biggest regret, regarding his friend, is that Kevorkian fired
marquee trial lawyer Geoffrey Fieger and chose to defend himself after
Thomas Youk died. That decision worked to Kevorkian's advantage no
more than the videotaping of his final meeting with the patient.
The doctor sent the tape to "60 Minutes" with hopes the airing would
force a change in laws. He expected a murder charge, but not the
categorization as a macabre fanatic who sought publicity.
Physician-assisted suicide remains illegal in 44 states (Wisconsin
included). It is legal in Oregon and has been decriminalized in Ohio.
If he could write an addendum to the book, Nicol would talk about
"how misguided trust in the justice system cost Jack seven years of
his life, when we are not sure how many he has left" and "how sad I
am that this crusader sacrificed so much to help so many."
Film rights to "Between the Dying and the Dead" have been purchased
by Hollywood's Bee Holder Productions.
"In the most recent of his rare letters, he has told his friends
that he is ready to die," the book states. "He is faced with ... a
terrifying future filled with misery" in prison and "there is no one
who can alleviate his suffering."
Kevorkian will be eligible for parole in 2007. "Since he is not
suffering pain -- at least physically, I doubt he would want (his
life) to end," Nicol says. "Should they deny his parole, however,
that may change."
Between the Dying and the Dead By Neal Nicol and Harry Wylie UW Press
Terrace Books 273 pages, $27.95 E-mail: [email protected]
The Capital Times (Madison, Wisconsin)
July 14, 2006 Friday
ALL EDITION
By Mary Bergin The Capital Times
The chapter is titled "Legacy," and it begins this way: "Jack Kevorkian
is used to fighting losing battles. The one he's fighting now may be
his last."
How sad and ironic that he seems to be struggling alone.
The 78-year-old physician, long known as "Doctor Death" because of his
willingness to help dozens of terminally ill people end their lives,
is slowly fading from life and public sight. He is in a Michigan
prison and has multiple ailments, including hepatitis C, contracted
decades ago while being his own guinea pig during research.
To hear friend Neal Nicol tell it, there also is a disintegration
of spirit because of inadequate reading materials, no access to the
Internet and no musical outlet (Kevorkian is a longtime piano and
flute player).
"They pretty much shot him right down, and it appears to be working,"
says Nicol in a phone interview. He describes Kevorkian, whom he last
saw in May, as "pretty frail."
Nicol and Harry Wylie, another longtime Kevorkian friend, have written
"Between the Dying and the Dead: Dr. Jack Kevorkian's Life and the
Battle to Legalize Euthanasia."
It is Kevorkian's only authorized biography, one that attempts "to
correct the incomplete portrait ... known by most Americans." Maybe
that sounds like the makings of a whitewash job, but the book is
about the doctor's flaws and missteps as well as his lesser-known
charms and tender side of character.
This son of Armenian refugees (who escaped genocide) wrote music
and limericks, made a cheap film about Handel's "Messiah," learned
to speak seven languages, produced a jazz CD ("A Very Still Life")
that earned a Grammy nomination in 1997.
It has been hard for him to be humble, and hard for him to lie. He
has never understood how a legislator could favor capital punishment
but be against euthanasia.
Many more people have asked Kevorkian for help to die than the
estimated 130 whom he has assisted.
"He is outspoken, brash, egotistical and intensely committed to the
causes in which he believes," the book states. "He is also a shy,
eccentric man who lived a monastic, ethical life, buying his clothes
from the Salvation Army and subsisting on the plainest of food,
particularly white bread."
The writing style is engaging, the subject matter is fascinating, and
there is no soft pedaling of details. These include the intricacies
of cadaver blood transfusion research, and exactly how ALS patient
Thomas Youk's life ended in 1998 (the case that led to Kevorkian's
present incarceration).
Kevorkian is painted as a gifted child who taunted teachers out of
boredom, yet not smart enough to know when/why/how his unconventional
ideas would backfire.
Had he been more savvy about how to introduce sensitive topics,
or latched onto others who were, perhaps the doctor would have been
granted the Nobel Prize that he once imagined for himself.
"We all have regrets," Nicol says, "and I think his biggest was
thinking that he could force the establishment into allowing terminal
patients to pass, pain free, at home with their loved ones."
Living wills and palliative care exist today because of Kevorkian, the
authors contend. His actions and philosophy have sparked right-to-die
and patient rights dialogue.
Nicol's biggest regret, regarding his friend, is that Kevorkian fired
marquee trial lawyer Geoffrey Fieger and chose to defend himself after
Thomas Youk died. That decision worked to Kevorkian's advantage no
more than the videotaping of his final meeting with the patient.
The doctor sent the tape to "60 Minutes" with hopes the airing would
force a change in laws. He expected a murder charge, but not the
categorization as a macabre fanatic who sought publicity.
Physician-assisted suicide remains illegal in 44 states (Wisconsin
included). It is legal in Oregon and has been decriminalized in Ohio.
If he could write an addendum to the book, Nicol would talk about
"how misguided trust in the justice system cost Jack seven years of
his life, when we are not sure how many he has left" and "how sad I
am that this crusader sacrificed so much to help so many."
Film rights to "Between the Dying and the Dead" have been purchased
by Hollywood's Bee Holder Productions.
"In the most recent of his rare letters, he has told his friends
that he is ready to die," the book states. "He is faced with ... a
terrifying future filled with misery" in prison and "there is no one
who can alleviate his suffering."
Kevorkian will be eligible for parole in 2007. "Since he is not
suffering pain -- at least physically, I doubt he would want (his
life) to end," Nicol says. "Should they deny his parole, however,
that may change."
Between the Dying and the Dead By Neal Nicol and Harry Wylie UW Press
Terrace Books 273 pages, $27.95 E-mail: [email protected]